


We Don't Notice Anything

by lovelyisthenight (sparkle_1)



Series: Leoji Week 2017 [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Meetings, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 00:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkle_1/pseuds/lovelyisthenight
Summary: “First, and Junior Grand Prix gold medalist,” he says, “from the United States of America, Leo de la Iglesia!”Guang Hong knows who he is, though they've never spoken. He's only a couple of years older than Guang Hong, but he seems to have a lot of fans already. The crowd is clapping and cheering wildly, and he's soaking it all in, raising his arms and smiling widely.Guang Hong feels like he could cry.





	We Don't Notice Anything

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Leoji Week, Day 6
> 
> Prompt: "It's okay, I've got you."

He should be down there.

He should be preparing himself for the victory ceremony, instead of sitting up here in the stadium like some ordinary audience member.

Well, he feels like an audience member. He feels like he didn't do anything this week, compared to the winners.

He's worked so hard to get this far. He's put in every spare hour, every bit of energy, until he felt like he could drop dead on the spot. He gave everything he had to make it to the Final.

But it wasn't enough.

Guang Hong jumps slightly when the booming voice of the announcer comes through the speakers.

 _“First, and Junior Grand Prix gold medalist,”_ he says, _“from the United States of America, Leo de la Iglesia!”_

Guang Hong knows who he is, though they've never spoken. He's only a couple of years older than Guang Hong, but he seems to have a lot of fans already. The crowd is clapping and cheering wildly, and he's soaking it all in, raising his arms and smiling widely.

Guang Hong feels like he could cry.

It's not like he was expecting to get gold. This was his first Junior Grand Prix, and winning first wasn't really a realistic goal, for him.

But placing fifth - just two points away from dead last, with his lowest score of the season - wasn't how he was expecting himself to do, either.

He thought he could medal, at least. Everyone - his family, his friends, his coach - was counting on him to make them proud, and he really thought he could do it. He trained as hard as he could, for months, and he'd improved so much.

He's just always one step behind the others, racing to catch up but never quite making it.

He can't deny that Leo is good, though. He's really, really good, and he earned his placement.

His technical scores are great, but they're not phenomenal. The real talent lies in his artistry.

He’s able to connect with the music on a level Guang Hong can't even imagine himself doing. Every movement, every step, every spin, every jump, they all seem to be pure emotional expression, flowing directly from the song, into his soul, and out through his body in motion. His moves are fluid, but controlled, drifting from one to the next in perfect timing.

It's incredibly poetic, and incredibly inspiring.

Deserving of a gold medal.

Guang Hong dreads going home with nothing. Everyone will be so disappointed, and he can't bear to be the reason for it.

He's startled out of his melancholy again by the applause of the crowd, in response to the winners’ victory lap around the rink.

He can't stand this.

He gets up, ignoring the tightness in his throat, and makes his way down the row to the aisle. He's not sure where he's going, but he can't stay here and watch them all, celebrating.

Guang Hong lets his feet take him outside of the arena, through the deserted lobby, into a quiet corner down the end hall.

He leans back against the wall, sliding down until he's sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest.

He can't help it. The tears fall without warning, rapid and messy and pathetic. He struggles to control his breathing, pulling in air through shaky, shuddering gasps, but eventually he gives in.

He buries his face in his arms, and cries.

It's all been so overwhelming. The pressure to place well, the fierce competition, everyone watching, waiting for him to mess up. He thought he could handle it. He'd done okay at the other Grand Prix events. But this one was worse.

This was the _Final._ No chances for redemption, no backup plans.

He'd had one shot, and he blew it to pieces.

“Are you okay?”

Guang Hong nearly hits his head on the wall when he jerks in surprise, frantically wiping the tears from his cheeks.

He squints at the person before him, his vision still slightly blurry. It's…

It's Leo de la Iglesia, skate guards and gold medal in place.

“What - what are you doing here?” Guang Hong asks. He's suddenly self-conscious of his heavily accented English, and clears his throat embarrassedly. “Isn't there an… interview, or something?”

Leo smiles.

“That's not for a little while,” he says. “Are you okay, though?”

Guang Hong looks down, unable to hold back a soft sniffle.

“Just… disappointed,” he says quietly.

A moment later, he hears Leo take a step forward and lower himself to the floor beside Guang Hong, facing the wall.

“You're Guang Hong, right?” he asks.

Guang Hong nods miserably.

“This is your first final?”

Guang Hong shrugs.

“It's my first Junior Grand Prix,” he says.

“It's pretty cool that you made it this far,” Leo says.

Guang Hong closes his eyes and sighs, leaning back to rest his head on the wall.

Leo doesn't _understand._ It doesn't matter if he made it this far, if only coming fifth was the best he could do. He might as well not have qualified at all. Someone else deserves a higher spot than Guang Hong.

“You know, I totally bombed my first Grand Prix event.”

Guang Hong tries to remember what “bombed” means in American slang. He thinks it means you failed, or something, but that can't be right.

“What?”

“Two years ago, dead last. Probably my worst score, to date. It was bad.”

Guang Hong tries to wrap his head around the idea of Leo coming “dead last” in any competition.

He sniffles again.

“Really?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Leo laughs. “I got really nervous, and my technical elements failed so hard. My presentation score wasn't nearly enough to save me, either. Dead last. I cried, too.”

Guang Hong opens his eyes and stares down at the floor between them.

“I didn't come in dead last, and I'm still crying,” he whispers. “I don't like crying.”

“It's okay,” Leo says.

Guang Hong can feel more tears well up, and he bites his lip as they fall silently. He doesn't look up from the floor.

Leo places a hand on his shoulder comfortingly, and Guang Hong slowly moves to hide his face in his knees, wrapping his arms around his legs.

He doesn't sob, like he did before. But the tears still come.

Suddenly, a leg is pressing closer against his own, and arms are coming up to wrap around him.

Guang Hong sniffs loudly.

“It's okay,” Leo soothes. “I've got you.”

Guang Hong lets out a shaky breath.

He can't imagine that this is what Leo thought he'd be doing tonight. He just won a gold medal; he's probably got loads of interviews, and press conferences, and things.

“I'm sorry,” Guang Hong whimpers.

“Hey, don't worry about it,” Leo says reassuringly.

“You just won the Junior Grand Prix.” Guang Hong hates how wobbly and thick his voice has gotten. It's a wonder Leo can even understand what he's saying. “You should be celebrating, not sitting here, listening to me cry about losing.”

Leo says nothing, just tightens his grip, resting his chin on the top of Guang Hong's head. Strong hands run comfortingly up and down Guang Hong's back, and he allows himself to relax, a little.

“You'll do better next year,” Leo finally says.

Guang Hong exhales shakily.

“You think I'll make it here again next year?”

“You're a great skater,” Leo says softly. “I think this was your first Final, and you were nervous, and you let everything get to you. You'll do better next year.”

Guang Hong turns to fall deeper into Leo's arms, blinking away the leftover tears and sniffling quietly.

Leo's press conference is probably soon, and he knows he should make him go, tell him he'll be fine without him.

But he doesn't have anybody else.

His coach wouldn't know how to help him, and he doesn't really know any of the other skaters very well yet. No one but Leo.

So he stays.

And Leo stays as long as he can, until his coach angrily calls him about the press conference.

Guang Hong is still upset with himself. But he knows he can do better, and he will, the next chance he gets.

He looks forward to competing with Leo again, too. Maybe next time will be different, now that he actually knows somebody.

Well. If crying in Leo's arms counts as knowing him.

Anyway, he feels like he made a friend, even if Leo was just being nice.

Guang Hong thinks he wasn't, though. Leo seems like a genuine person, who means every word he says.

He said Guang Hong is a great skater. Guang Hong isn't one to think too highly of himself, but he thinks he believes Leo.

He can be great.

He can be amazing, if he tries hard enough.

Maybe, someday, he'll even become better than Leo.

Guang Hong smiles to himself.

Next year, he promises, he won't give himself a reason to cry. Next year, he'll be better than ever, ready to go head-to-head with whoever he skates against.

Ready to win gold.

And when he does, Leo will be right there beside him.

He's sure of it.

**Author's Note:**

> Because I wouldn't be staying true to myself if I didn't write at least one angsty fic for this week. I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner, tbh.


End file.
